After the Kiss
by anbrias
Summary: I laughed until I was relying on Char's hands on my waist and my hold on his waistcoat to keep me upright. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself in front of Dame Olga and Olive, their servants, and Char's men, and I laughed even more because I didn't care.
1. Chapter 1: After the Kiss

It was a long moment before Char pulled away, breaking our kiss. The tranquility of the moment was quickly replaced by embarrassment as he and I both became increasingly aware of the crowd of people that still remained around us. Heat rose in my face, and I saw the color suffuse his cheeks as he ducked his chin in embarrassment.

The silence that followed was broken as Hattie stormed out of the room and up the main stairs. I couldn't help it – I laughed. She had taken so much from me, and here I was, hand in hand with the one thing she wanted more than anything. There had been so many shifts in emotion over the last hour – sadness at the ball with Char, to fear as he discovered me, finally to this incorporable, curse-less joy. I laughed until I was relying on Char's hands on my waist and my hold on his waistcoat to keep me upright. I knew I was making a spectacle of myself in front of Dame Olga and Olive, their servants, and Char's men, and I laughed even more because I didn't care.

I looked up into Char's face, and he smiled at me, only looking away when a throat cleared behind him. Sir Stephen stepped forward. "Prince, I don't mean to interrupt, but the ball…" He trailed off.

Char looked as though he could not care less about any ball, but he nodded and reached his fingertips to my cheek. I shuddered delightfully. "You'll come stay at the castle?" he asked, and I nodded under his touch. He turned towards the room at large, the servants' eyes still obediently turned down. Dame Olga held a false smile fixed on her face, and Olive, who looked vaguely bored, chewed her thumb nail. "I will expect Ella's belongings to be brought up to the castle tonight," he said in a clear, authoritative voice.

I thought of Dame Olga's hands running over my fairy book, over my mother's ball gowns. "Mandy?" I asked, looking around for her.

"I'll make sure they arrive safely, love," she said, positively beaming at me. "You go with your prince."

_My prince_, I thought, as Char held out his wide hand for me to take and we made our way to the front door, the crowd of people parting as we walked past. Since the beginning of my servitude, I could fit the entirety of my possessions into a decent-sized carpet bag. And yet, I thought as Char helped me onto his horse, climbed up behind me, and I leaned my head back against his wide chest, I wanted for nothing.

"Would you like to meet my parents tonight?" Char asked as he guided his horse past the main entrance of the castle and towards the stable. "As Ella, I mean."

I looked down at my arms, covered in char, and the rags I'd thrown on. "Perhaps I'd better wait until tomorrow," I said grimly. He chuckled softly.

"They'll love you no matter what you wear, but perhaps it's best not to thrust too many surprises on them at once." He slid of the horse, helped me down, and handed the reins to the ever-waiting stable boy. "I should explain myself, however. It's not very kingly to abandon one's subjects in the middle of a ball."

"Not even when induced by the prospect of seeing that sour look on Hattie's face when you kissed me?"

"I shall try to impart upon them the weight of that moment. Though I may place more importance on the kiss than the step-sister's response."

As we entered through a side door, a man in formal dress I took to be a butler scurried over to us. "Prince Charmont," he said breathlessly, hurrying through his bow. "Your parents-"

"I'm headed to them right now," Char said soothingly. "In the meantime, Roger, would you show Lady Ella to the Emerald Room? She will be staying with us."

If Roger thought it odd that a young maid in rags would be a guest of the Prince, he hid it well. He swept me a gracious bow in response to my curtsy. "Of course, Madam."

I hesitated to let go of Char's hand, suddenly nervous at the prospect of acting the part of Lady after so many months, but he smiled at me reassuringly. "I'll come say goodnight as soon as I can," he said, before setting his expression grim as he headed off to meet whatever admonishments his parents held in store.

If the name "Emerald Room" had filled me with unwelcome memories of finishing school, the room itself immediately set me at ease. It was tastefully decorated, with deep mahogany furniture. Only the dark green bedding hinted at the name. I fell back onto the huge mattress and let out a deep breath. A mere hour earlier I had been preparing to leave Frell, and Char, forever.

A light knock on the door indicated a petite lady's maid, who introduced herself as Rosa. Before I had time to introduce myself, she had expertly guided me to the washbasin and was sponging off the grime I had coated over myself in the hopes of avoiding recognition.

I wasn't sure how long Char would be, and I thought of dismissing her, lest his arrival at my bedroom shock her, but I was exhausted by the day's events and let her dress me in a warm night gown and dressing robe (the castle must have kept a supple on hand) and gently comb out my hair. I pretended her small hands were Mandy's and relaxed into their touch.

A few minutes after she'd left, telling me she'd return to dress me in the morning, a second, much more determined, knock rang through the room. I pulled my dressing robe around me, suddenly modest, and opened the door to Char, leaning against the doorframe and wearing the distinct look of a child who has just been scolded. The childish look was replaced by a much more adult one when he saw that I was in nightclothes, and a flush crept up his neck.

"I'm sorry, I..." he said, then trailed off. I stood aside to let him in. "I just wanted to make sure you were settling in well."

"Very, I thank you," I said as I shut the door behind him, suddenly very aware that I'd never been this alone with him. "And your parents?"

"Ready to forgive, given the circumstances. And eager to meet you."

"What did you tell them of me?" I asked, curious.

"That you were able to bring out a child's joy in me, while at the same time making me a better man."

I couldn't help it; I pulled him to me, resting my head against his chest, modesty be damned. His arms closed around me and he held me just so. We stayed there for who knows how long, several lifetimes at least, and then he reluctantly disentangled himself from me, kissed me on the forehead and, with the eyes of a man who wanted nothing more than to stay right where he was, wished me goodnight.


	2. Chapter 2: Introductions

As I stood in from of the open closet the next morning, a bit of reality came charging into the dream world I'd entered. Rosa had unpacked the bag of clothes Mandy had sent, which consisted exclusively of my mother's ball gowns, servants garb, and the frocks I'd worn before my servitude – and my growth spurt. In short, nothing suitable to wear before the King and Queen.

Rosa clicked her tongue and left the room, as I blinked hard, hoping more options would magically appear. A ball gown would be absurd, but any more so than showing three inches of ankle? Or perhaps, I thought with a rueful laugh, I might as well just put on the rags. At least I was used to them.

Getting dressed up to go to the balls had felt like as much of disguise as the mask I'd worn, after so many months without caring who was watching or what they thought. Now, everyone would be watching, ready and waiting to critique. I'd gone from invisible to center stage with a simple kiss. Or, rather, a few kisses.

I was on the verge of simply getting back into bed when Rosa reappeared, clutching a bright fuchsia dress in her arms. "Here you are, Lady," she said. "This should fit you fine."

I could have kissed her. It was not my color, I thought, staring in the mirror as she expertly did up my buttons, but that hardly mattered. "Where did you find it?" I asked.

"A visiting duchess left it behind several months ago." Rosa smiled grimly. "You'll excuse me for saying, I've often found the finer the lady, the less she cares for her things. I though we might find use for it one day."

"For garish curtains, if nothing else," I murmured, looking down at the bodice in resigned distaste.

Thirty minutes later, I was ready for the knock on the door as the butler, Roger, informed me that my presence was requested in the drawing room. I followed him down the sparkling hallway with as much grace as possible, given that the borrowed gown fell a little too long and Rosa had piled my hair in such a knot on the back of my head that I had to fight to keep the weight of it from pulling my head backwards.

Char was waiting for me next to a set of majestic white doors. He looked tired, I thought as he nodded the butler away, but the smile he gave me as he took my hands in his was alive with energy.

"Are you well?" he asked.

"By the weight of it, I believe my ladies' maid may have hidden some rather large rocks in my hair, but yes, I am well. And you?"

"Wonderful," he said, with a half-grin. He was nervous. I wondered if there was need to be. "They're waiting for you."

I nodded and grasped his hand as we entered.

If I'd been expecting the throne room, I was greatly mistaken. The room we entered was cozy and could have been found at Dame Olga's manor, if she'd suddenly developed an eye for subtle elegance. The king sat at a desk facing the window, scribbling on what was certainly some very official document. The queen and a young women I recognized as Char's sister Cecilia sat in armchairs by the window, chatting while they embroidered. I wondered why women who could choose any pastime they wished would settle for something so mundane.

All three looked over as we entered, and King Jerrold stood up.

"Mother, father, Cece," Char said. "May I present Ella of Frell? Ella, this is my father Jerrold, mother Daria, and sister Cecilia."

I curtsied, surprising myself by how nervous I was. Only proper finishing school training kept me from wobbling.

"Now I understand why my son was so set against these balls," the king said, breaking his appraising look at me to turn to Char. "Son, you could have told me you'd already found what I was making you search for."

Char grinned sheepishly as Daria held out her hands to me. "Come, child." She took my hands in hers. "You are lovely without your mask." I felt a flush creep up my neck, though she did not seem angry at my deception.

"I apologize for that, Queen," I said anyway, for good measure.

She waved her hand. "Call me 'mother,'" she said.

"Mother," I amended. The word stuck in my mouth like cotton. I wondered whether it would ever feel natural.

Cecilia stared down at her embroidery. She was full-figured and beautiful. If I hadn't known she was only thirteen, I might have guessed her to be older than myself. I tried to catch her eye, but she didn't look up. I wondered if being a beautiful princess had made her cold.

Char noticed my gaze. "I had to stop Cece from barging into your room in her excitement to meet you," he said. "I didn't think you'd like to be woken on your first morning to a stranger peering over your bed."

Cece kept her eyes down as she made another tiny stitch, but I saw the hint of a dimple. Not cold. Shy.

"Is there anything at all we can do to make your time with us easier?" Daria asked kindly.

I thought of the frocks in my closet, several inches too short, and of exotic language tutors who could perfect what I'd taught myself out of books. "My godmother is a cook under the employ of my stepmother," I said. "If there were a position for her at the castle, it would mean more than I can say to have her close."

Daria smiled. I felt as though I'd passed a test I didn't know was taking.


	3. Chapter 3: Taking Back What's Mine

I slept poorly that night, though I had no reason to. Mandy had immediately been offered a place in the castle, and I had shared a many-course dinner with Char's family, only mistaking an oyster fork for a garnish fork on one occasion – and as Jerrold spent most of the meal gesticulating with a chicken leg to emphasize his points, I doubted my error had caused too much consternation.

I finally drifted off early in the morning, and I awoke absolutely sure of what I needed to do.

The morning was cold; the silk of the dress Rosa had found for me was made to withstand the cold of stone castle hallways, but not the fine mist of a chilly morning. I sloshed through the mud, avoiding worries about dirtying my limited supply of clothing. I'd deal with that later.

When I reached Dame Olga's house, I reflexively circled around back and entered through the servant's door. If there was going to be a scene, I wanted it to be on my terms.

It was still early, and the house was quiet; I didn't see a soul until I entered the kitchen, which was in a state of panic. Nancy was bustling around, peering down at Mandy's old cookbooks while several pots on the stove overflowed. I rushed over to begin stirring. "Thank you," Nancy murmured, pushing her hair back from her sweaty face without looking up. She did a double take and stared at me.

"My Lady!" She cried immediately dropping into a curtsy.

"Hush," I scolded, embarrassed, and turned my attention back to the stove. "Are they awake yet?"

"Yes!" Nancy cried. "And asking for breakfast since the moment they sat up." She sighed. "I don't blame Mandy for leaving, but it's doing nothing to make my life easier, hearing that bell ring every two minutes." Indeed, the aggressive clanging indicating Dame Olga's needs did ring out.

"Would you like me to distract them?" I asked.

Nancy grinned wickedly. "They're in the parlor."

I set a pot of tea and several mugs on a tray and walked to the parlor. I could hear their complaints before I even opened the door.

"-she dares to ask for a recommendation, I will be only too happy to tell future employers that, though her cooking may be adequate, her _loyalty_ is highly questionable," I head Dame Olga say as I walked in, head bowed, and began to serve the tea. They didn't so much as look at me. Perhaps they'd grown so used to seeing me around the house serving them that my presence didn't seem out of place, or maybe they never really looked at their servants. Hattie was certainly preoccupied, body flung out over the couch.

"I'm hungry," Olive moaned. I handed a cup of tea to Dame Olga. She took it, eyes never moving in my direction.

"Quiet, Olive, we all are," Hattie snapped. "Like beggars in our own home."

"I know the feeling," I said, putting down the tray and seating myself in a vacant armchair.

They all jumped. I leaned back and smiled cheerfully.

"Ella," Hattie said breathlessly.

Olive stared at me. "Did he decide he didn't like you?" she asked.

"Hush," Dame Olga said. She turned to me, a saccharine smile plastered on her face. "Sweet Ella, I'm so glad to see you! We were planning to call on you just this afternoon."

"Were you?" I asked.

"Of course!" she continued. "I needed to make sure my step-daughter was well taken care of." I wondered how she could speak, her skin stretched so tight in that wide smile.

"Quite well, thank you," I said. "The King and Queen have been most welcoming. And Char," I gave what I hoped what was flirty giggle. It must have worked – Hattie whimpered.

"Well, my love, you must tell us everything! I'm sorry we don't have any food to offer you. That cook Mandy has up and quit, leaving us in quite the mess. But perhaps we'll accompany you up to the castle this afternoon and impose on the Queen's hospitality until I can find a suitable replacement."

I leaned forward in my chair, looking directly in Dame Olga's eyes. "I think not," I said coldly. Her smile faltered. I wondered whether she honestly thought I would have forgotten.

"No," I continued. "I won't be staying long." I turned my gaze to Hattie. "I'm just here for what's mine."

"But we sent your belongings to the castle yesterday," Dame Olga said.

Hattie stared back at me, a bit of defiance in her eyes. "I don't know what you're referring to," she said stiffly.

"Just the token of our 'friendship' that you saw fit to take from me."

"It was a gift," Hattie said stubbornly. "You gave it to me."

"And you gave me slavery."

"Stop asking me for it!" she said, shrilly.

I laughed. "That won't work anymore, Hattie."

She crossed her arms over her chest. The movement caught my attention. "Well, anyway," she said. "I lost it."

"No," I said calmly. "You're wearing it." Hattie's mouth dropped open, but she said nothing. I help out my hand. "Give it to me, or I will leave, and return with the royal army."

She looked for a moment as though she would call my bluff, then she pulled my mother's necklace out from under her gown and began fiddling with the clasp. I hid my sigh of relief. When she crossed the room to hand it to me, I caught her wrist. "It's not fun, is it?" I whispered. "Obeying." She pulled away and stalked back to the couch. I put the necklace on and granted myself a few moments to caress the milky pearls. They needed to be cared for, and they were warmed by Hattie's body rather than my mother's, but I felt her in them just the same.

I rose left the room without a word. I made it halfway down the hallway before Olive's monotone voice stopped me. "Wait," she said.

I turned around. "Yes?" She had followed me out into the hallway.

"You took back the necklace because you don't want to be friends with Hattie anymore." I nodded. "But you didn't take back the money from me."

I sighed. "I have no need for money."

"But does that mean that we're still friends?"

Oh Olive. Whose constant need for attention had robbed me of hours of my life, and whose greed had stripped my of everything I had. I would have happily lived the rest of my days never speaking to her again. And yet, at the end of the day, what she had craved above all else was my companionship. I sighed.

"If you'd like to be."

Olive shrugged. "I guess," she said, then turned back into the parlor.

I left the house weary rather than elated. As I walked away for what I desperately hoped would be that last time, I didn't look back.


	4. Chapter 4: Rules

The castle was bustling by the time I returned. I headed to the kitchen, eager to seek comfort in Mandy. I had not made it far before Char's voice stopped me.

"Ella!" he called, and I turned to see him hurrying towards me in large, quick strides. He looked frantic. "Ella, where have you been?"

"I went for a walk," I said, not ready to discuss the morning's excursion.

He sighed. "Ella, you can't do that. You can't just leave. Your lady's maid was frantic when you were missing this morning."

"I wasn't missing," I said crossly. "I just wasn't _there_. Besides, am I not allowed to leave as I will?"

"Of course you can. But you must tell someone, and take a guard, so that we know you're safe. Cece always does."

I bristled at the command. "While you're free to come and go as you please? Char, I am not your little sister. I can take care of myself, as you well know."

He looked as though he were about to retort, then thought better of it. As a passing maid shot us a curious glance, me with my hands on my hips and Char deeply flushed, he grabbed my hand and pulled me through a nearby door, which led to a linen closet.

I stared up at him, determined not to speak first. He ran his hand through his hair. He looked as though he were wrestling with a decision. Eventually, he sighed again. "Ella," he said, softly now, back to the contained Char with whom I was familiar. "I should have told you this before you agreed to marry me, but I wanted you to say yes so badly." He paused, and I reached out to tough his arm. "You were brave enough and selfless enough to refuse me the first time because you feared that you would put me in danger," he continued. "But I have been neither so brave nor so selfless. But you must know that connecting your self to me means putting yourself in eternal danger. There are people who would go to great lengths to harm you. And I will not have that happen. But Ella," He broke eye contact with me, readying himself. "You have such spirit. I would hate to be the cause of reigning that in, even a little. And so I must ask you, will you be able to follow these rules, silly as they seem to you, without sacrificing yourself? If not, I would never do you the disservice of letting you marry me." He took a deep breath. "Knowing all this, will you, can you, still be my wife?"

He finally looked back at me, searching in my face, I knew, for any hope of reading me. I reached up to touch his cheek. "Come," I said. "Let us tease Mandy into making us some biscuits."

* * *

><p><em>Just a short one today. Exams are finally catching up to me. But that means procrastination should be setting in shortly... so updates may come soon.<em>


	5. Chapter 5: Preparing for the Tour

The next few weeks were a rush of planning and packing. Not only was there a wedding to organize, but Char would soon be departing for a several month-long tour of Kyrria. The tour was customary; after time spent learning the Ayorthian customs, the future leader would revisit his own kingdom with new eyes and get to know the people he would soon rule. As one whose greatest explorations of the kingdom had taken place when I was half starved and searching for a giant's wedding, I was supremely jealous. While Char met new people and discovered the world, I would be safely within the castle walls, picking out centerpieces for the wedding and waiting for his return. I would have none of it.

I staged my attack over dinner two weeks before he was due to leave. I had dutifully helped pick flower arrangements all afternoon, in the hopes of proving to Daria that I could represent the crown well. She always treated me with kindness, but I sometimes believed she could sense my restlessness and my apathy towards the day-to-day tasks of running a castle, which so consumed her life. I had feigned opinions over shade of yellow for the roses for two hours and had been rewarded with a satisfied smile from Daria as we settled on a stem length. I hoped I might count her as an ally.

"King Jerrold," I said, laying down my soup spoon as the main course was placed before us. "I have been thinking."

"Yes?" he asked, a bemused smile crossing his face. By this point, the royal family had come to expect the occasional oddity from me.

"Well," I started, dabbing at my mouth with a napkin with what I hoped was grace. "The wedding planning is coming on superbly. The queen and I made some wonderful strides this afternoon with regard to flowers." Char turned a chuckle into a cough halfway through. I kicked him under the table.

"Indeed," the king replied, uninterested, as Daria nodded her agreement.

"Since we are so ahead of schedule with the planning, I was wondering whether it might not be beneficial for the people of Kyrria to get to know their future queen, to promote confidence in the crown. Especially," I continued, "since I am unknown to most of the kingdom."

"Indeed," Jerrold said again, this time with a sense of intrigue.

"Perhaps," I said slowly, "it might make sense for me to accompany Char on his tour so that the people may come to know me, and so that I can come to better understand the kingdom."

The king turned to Daria. She stared at me intently, and I tried to meet her gaze innocently. When neither moved to speak, I turned to Char. He was smiling at me with something bordering on wonder.

"Having Ella accompany me would indeed be beneficial," he said. "Not only for raising the morale of the kingdom, but also, her skill with languages will cover my own failings and save a good deal of embarrassment."

"Travelling together before the wedding?" King Jerrold asked. "Is that…" he paused. "Decent?"

I blushed, but held my position. "I live in the castle already. Those who wish to gossip will already be. Giving a face to the woman they're speaking about can only quell unkind rumors. Make me a person to them. Though-" A rush of an idea came to me. "Perhaps if we moved the wedding up to before the tour, made it a smaller affair, then we would avoid the issue entirely."

"Absolutely not," Daria said, speaking for the first time and looking at me with a half smile that told me my glee had been all too evident. "But you will entrust the planning to me and to Cecelia?"

At her name, Cece, who had been silently watching the conversation with interest, spoke up. "But if Ella gets to travel, why can't I?" she asked. "I'm only a few years younger and-"

"Absolutely not," said Jerrold firmly, turning his attention to the cutlet that had been placed before him, indicating an end to the conversation.

"But father," Char said, sensing his sister's disappointment. "If propriety is your concern, surely Ella and Cece travelling together, rather than just Ella travelling with me, would be beneficial, would it not?"

Jerrold looked up, thought carefully, then sighed and picked up his fork. I saw an expression of joy break out over Cece's face and I knew that she could read her father better than I could: we had won.

It was a rush to get me and Cecilia prepared in time. Cece had the benefit of being tailored to represent the castle from birth, but I was a wildcard. I was given a crash course of all the different peoples of Kyrria and their varied customs, from the language classes I dozed through, to decorum classes that taught me it is polite to give the regal curtsy upon meeting all people, except those older than seventy in Bast, who often confuse such a movement for a now-antiquated act of aggression.

If Char and I had struggled to find time to be together before, it was nothing to these weeks. On one rare free afternoon, as we watched Apple canter playfully around his enclosure, I voiced these concerns. We were hidden under the arms of a willow tree, where we could see out but where we were protected from the eager glances of servants sent to fetch us for any number of menial tasks.

"It's odd," I said, leaning my head against his shoulder. "I feel as though I were able to get to know you better when we were just writing letters back and forth. Now that I sleep two halls away, I barely speak to you."

He gently twirled his fingers in my hair, which spilled onto his chest. "I know," he said quietly. "I miss you desperately. But once we leave, away from mothers and wedding plans, it will be better."

I laughed. "Oh yes. Hours and hours in a carriage together, with no escape, is always conducive to marital bliss. You'll be sick of me within the week."

With one finger on my chin, he turned my head towards him. "Never," he whispered, so close his breath tickled my lips. "Never."

I intended to retort, but between his hands in my hair and his lips on mine and my gratefulness for the cover provided by the low-hanging branches, I simply forgot.


End file.
